Not Today

;there is only one thing we say to death;

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OFDIATRIBES  |  a  multimuse  blog  for  the  group  nomadhqz

featuring  marjorie stuart & tarini  chola written  by  bird  (  she/her  .  est  )  

Ⅰ. ⸻               ꧁༺ 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓳𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮 ༻꧂

                             INTRODUCTION  •  THREADS  •  VISAGE

ⅠⅠ. ⸻             ꧁༺ 𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓲 ༻꧂

                            INTRODUCTION  •  THREADS  •  VISAGE    

[vipercrownss]

Open Starter! @nomadhqzstarters

Location: The halls of the Scottish Palace in the afternoon

She hated the thought of so many more people she couldn't trust being under one roof. In her mind, she had to now look over her own shoulder constantly.

She came across someone in the halls.

"Good afternoon. Are you finding your stay here well?" Agnes asked, swallowing down the bitter feeling of being surrounded everywhere she looked.

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"Your grace," Tarini's head dipped in respect, her hands busy cleaning the blood from around stained fingers with the apron that adorned the front of her gown. "I am finding it quite productive. Already I have seen to wounds of some of the Scottish soldiers."

When at last all that remained was the dried red encrusted around her fingertips the apron was removed and passed to the waiting servant. "My apologies for the gore, a healer's work is never done."

[inactivebcthiswebsitesucks]

Her Royal Highness Princess Marjorie Iona Friseal of Scotland

In the eye of a hurricane When I got one foot in the grave I’ll dig my boots into the dirt And face the rolling thunder

I’m five generations of blazing a trail Through barbed wire valleys and overgrown dells I’m barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails Whoa, whoa, whoa

I’m four-fifths of reckless and one-fifth of jack I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks Yeah, my kinda crazy’s still running its courses with Wildflowers and wild horses

It’s in the water in my veins That bread of heaven falls like rain So I’m taken care of either way Make something out of how I’m made Until I hitch a ride on glory’s train

I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails - Early Life

To put it simply Marjorie was never born to be a lady. She loved the skirts and pretty dresses that adorned her but her love for the effeminate stopped there. From the moment she could notice the young princess resented the difference with which she and her brothers were treated. Marjorie wanted to learn the dance of swords and how to show a bow. To get muddied exploring the crags and moors. Instead she was held inside. Lessons on needlepoint and how to act like a proper lady. At aged eight she had enough and began sneaking out to the training yards in the dead of night. Wiggling from the warmth of her featherbed she trudged stolen garments in hand to have a go at the training dummies. Her first attempts were hilariously disastrous. It was only after her brother Caelen followed her one night that she began to improve. With his tutelage she began to become adept at both sword and bow. She took hits from him that would leave bruises and welts. When asked about the injuries she would simply claim she fell. Her governess was even fired under suspect of abuse. Once good enough, she would often swap places with her brother William. Disguised as him underneath training armor she would get lessons from the masters at arms themselves. It invigorated and enthralled her. On a good day she earned her little brother praise on his improvements. On a bad her father would be called down to give them both a lashing.

When her eighteenth name day came, she was offered a horse of her choosing as was custom. Rather than choose the dainty Arabian, a true lady's horse, that was presented to her, Marjorie picked out Fargus. A draughty war horse colt. He had been reserved to be a well-respected guard's personal mount, but the princesses insistence meant that Fargus became hers.

When I got one foot in the grave - Before the Alliance

Marjorie's adventurous spirit did not quiet as she aged. It soared as her parents gave up on trying to control her. She even shed the love of pretty dresses that had carried through her childhood. Now she adorned herself in more practical clothing, still finely made but better suited to a fight. The bodices clung to her figure, adorned in mail and the breaches that completed the look were fit for any princess. To complete the look a longsword was a constant companion at her hip. When out riding a bow at her back. Marjorie participated in tourney's and fought alongside Scotland's men against the Vikings. Many men proposed to her and she refused them all. They wanted a trophy, the youngest princess of the kingdom to show off their own power. Marjorie would be no one's pawn. Her power was her own, not to be shared with those who had not earned it.

Despite familial nagging she chose to remain single and at twenty-seven was practically considered a spinster. Her love was for the wildness that ravaged her soul. Of course wild adventures led to remarkable circumstance. Such is the tale of how she fell in love with a warrior of one of Scotland's enemies; a member of the Madsen Clan. Their love burned hot and fierce, brought upon by an initial skirmish between the two. Swords had been drawn and minor blood spilled. When they came away panting for breath, neither having gotten advantage over the other, it was as if their souls collided.

Though no maid, the news of Marjorie's pregnancy shocked the royal family. For her own protection she was kept out of the spotlight, her absence explained away by sudden illness. Nine months passed with a plan for the babe to go to his father. A bastard in Scotland and a son of the enemy Marjorie feared for her child's life. She wanted him to be raised to know his own power. To be a true warrior like his father.

The child's father disappeared right before the birth. Left with no other option, she snuck the babe to Hal. As leader of the clan he would protect the child. Her son. Baird.

Until I hitch a ride on glory's train - Present Day

Marjorie strives to become in a position of power. She wants to rule. Not as princess or queen, but as a leader deemed worthy in her own right. Six months have passed since Baird's birth. The family mourned the 'death' of her child and Marjorie herself spent weeks locked inside her rooms. She mourned for the lover she had lost and the son she would never know. Slowly she began to pick the pieces of herself back up. Vowing that once she ruled she and her son would be reunited as kin.

Currently the only contact she has with the babe was through the occasional visit carefully planned and hidden. Those stolen moments were never enough, yet they had to be. For her son's safety as well as her own.

Her experience in battle has earned her a place at the table with her father and brother. From it she is able to argue that her interests and ideas be present. With that ability she has been able to gain a bit of control. Enough control to keep her son hidden and occasionally help Hal Madsen. Marjorie does not believe in the total nihilation of either party. They can each get what they want through sacrificing lesser empires. She resents Scotland's alliance with the the clan of Ragnar Eskilsen. With the formation of the alliance she believes Eskilsen clan has grown weak. Painting a target across Scotland's back.

Misc. Facts

Like many men, Marjorie has frequent affairs. While she doesn't share them with the other kingdoms her family is well aware of her trysts.

She seeks to have a hand in the current politics and uses conversations and the like to better her position and is slowly trying to build up the amount of those loyal to her.

The longsword Marjorie currently carried was forged with steel from her lover's weapon. It was all that was returned to her after his disappearance.

Frequently wanders off to wherever she pleases. Often goes looking for bandits or trouble to keep herself entertained.

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High in the halls of the kings who are goneJenny would dance with her ghosts The ones she had lost and the ones she had found And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who’d been gone for so very long She couldn’t remember their names They spun her around on the damp old stones Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall From winter to summer then winter again ‘Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

The ones who had loved her the most - Early Life

Hari and Tarini were inseparable from the moment they came into the world. Born merely seven minutes apart, a distinction that much Tarini’s irritation won Revati the title of “big brother”, the twins were each others first friend. In adolescence they developed a language all their own, one that not even their parents could decipher. It was a mix of various syllables and languages that at a glance appeared to be random babbling but was in fact much more. the twins were curious and playful, often playing pranks on their older brother and various staff members throughout the palace. It became well known that if one was out talking to an adult, the other was off somewhere wreaking havoc. For Tarini’s part being a princess was glorious. All of the handsome boys fell over themselves for her hand and she had as many gowns and jewels as she could possibly want. Life was carefree and attractive. Even as her younger siblings came along and stole her parents attention Tarini never felt alone.

And she never wanted to leave - Doomsday

The Chola Princess can still remember the day. Each second notched into her skull. The way her brother clawed at his chest, pulse throbbing against pale skin. For the first time in their lives hari and Tarini were no longer identical. Each labored breath pierced a dagger through his heart. When finally the light left the once bright eyes of her brother Tarini wailed. She through her fists against the Chola’s healer. Begging that he do something, anything to bring her twin back to her. When he insisted that no more could be done, she called for his head. It took two of her brothers to hold her back as she attempted to claw her way to the man who had failed her twin A part of her soul died that day. It withered like the flowers so often given to her. Blackening and shriveling until the part of her that had once been full of merriment ceased to exist.

Tarini vowed at that moment that the sickness would never take another so long as she had something to say about it. She threw herself into studies, apprenticing with a healer despite her families insistence that it was too dangerous. Five years was a long time and her knowledge grew with each tragedy laid bare before her. As her knowledge grew she could not shake the rage at the ineptitude of her twin’s healer. Tarini fully believed there was more he could have done and yet he chose not to. She did the one thing she never thought herself capable of - she murdered him. Days later she left to begin healing those throughout the countryside and hasn’t been home since.

From winter to summer then winter again - Present Day

Whoever the little girl had been was no longer present. An adult now prone to melancholy it took effort to bring a smile to her features. Her only relief came from the good work she performed across the countryside and beyond. Years were spent traveling with those treating the sick and ill. Tending to the wounded after a battle or siege. The world was cruel and the princess now carried arms. It was a small dagger gifted to her by a family member, always worn at the hip. An antidote to most poisons rests in the pendant that lay between her breasts.

She supports the trip to Scotland though worries for her families safety. After hearing of the incidents at home and of a father killed she vowed to come home to her family. There were those in the summit who could still benefit from her skill. Tarini arrived shortly before they took their leave for Scotland and traveled among the caravan tending to the wounds of her people.

Misc. Facts

Tarini hoards her late brother's most prized possessions in a special trunk inside her chambers. Any one who dares disturb it is severely reprimanded.

Tarini abhors violence and though capable of defending herself, wishes men would use their brains rather than their swords to work out a problem.

She almost always has her nose in the latest physician’s text; writing down antidotes and new ways of curing an illness.

Along her travels she picked up a faithful companion; a large boarhound. Wherever she goes it follows, woe to anyone but her who tries to pen up the beast.

Though forbidden, she had herself marked ink with Hari’s name written in Hindi along the inside curve of her left breast. As close to her heart as can be.

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new tag drop because the old one was an a**hole

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High in the halls of the kings who are gone Jenny would dance with her ghosts The ones she had lost and the ones she had found And the ones who had loved her the most

The ones who'd been gone for so very long She couldn't remember their names They spun her around on the damp old stones Spun away all her sorrow and pain

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

They danced through the day And into the night through the snow that swept through the hall From winter to summer then winter again 'Til the walls did crumble and fall

And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave Never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave

The ones who had loved her the most - Early Life

Revati and Tarini were inseparable from the moment they came into the world. Born merely seven minutes apart, a distinction that much Tarini's irritation won Revati the title of "big sister", the twins were each others first friend. In adolescence they developed a language all their own, one that not even their parents could decipher. It was a mix of various syllables and languages that at a glance appeared to be random babbling but was in fact much more. Both girls were curious and playful, often playing pranks on their older brother and various staff members throughout the palace. It became well known that if one was out talking to an adult, the other was off somewhere wreaking havoc. For Tarini's part being a princess was glorious. All of the handsome boys fell over themselves for her hand and she had as many gowns and jewels as she could possibly want. Life was carefree and attractive. Even as her younger siblings came along and stole her parents attention Tarini never felt alone.

And she never wanted to leave - Doomsday

The Chola Princess can still remember the day. Each second notched into her skull. The way her sister clawed at her chest, pulse throbbing against pale skin. For the first time in their lives Revati and Tarini were no longer identical. Each labored breath pierced a dagger through her heart. When finally the light left the once bright eyes of her sister Tarini wailed. She through her fists against the Chola's healer. Begging that he do something, anything to bring her sister back to her. When he insisted that no more could be done, she called for his head. It took two of her brothers to hold her back as she attempted to claw her way to the man who had failed her sister. A part of her soul died that day. It withered like the flowers so often given to her. Blackening and shriveling until the part of her that had once been full of merriment ceased to exist.

Tarini vowed at that moment that the sickness would never take another so long as she had something to say about it. She threw herself into studies, apprenticing with a healer despite her families insistence that it was too dangerous. Five years was a long time and her knowledge grew with each tragedy laid bare before her. As her knowledge grew she could not shake the rage at the ineptitude of her sister's healer. Tarini fully believed there was more he could have done and yet he chose not to. She did the one thing she never thought herself capable of - she murdered him. Days later she left to begin healing those throughout the countryside and hasn't been home since.

From winter to summer then winter again - Present Day

Whoever the little girl had been was no longer present. An adult now prone to melancholy it took effort to bring a smile to her features. Her only relief came from the good work she performed across the countryside and beyond. Years were spent traveling with those treating the sick and ill. Tending to the wounded after a battle or siege. The world was cruel and the princess now carried arms. It was a small dagger gifted to her by a family member, always worn at the hip. An antidote to most poisons rests in the pendant that lay between her breasts.

She supports the trip to Scotland though worries for her families safety. After hearing of the incidents incidents at home and of a father killed she vowed to come home to her family. There were those in the summit who could still benefit from her skill. Tarini arrived shortly before they took their leave for Scotland and traveled among the caravan tending to the wounds of her people.

Misc. Facts

Tarini hoards her late sisters most prized possessions in a special trunk inside her chambers. Any one who dares disturb it is severely reprimanded.

Tarini abhors violence and though capable of defending herself, wishes men would use their brains rather than their swords to work out a problem.

She almost always has her nose in the latest physician's text; writing down antidotes and new ways of curing an illness.

Along her travels she picked up a faithful companion; a large boarhound. Wherever she goes it follows, woe to anyone but her who tries to pen up the beast.

Though forbidden, she had herself marked ink with Revati's name written in Hindi along the inside curve of her left breast. As close to her heart as can be.

[inactivebcthiswebsitesucks]

Her Royal Highness Princess Marjorie Iona Stuart of Scotland

In the eye of a hurricane When I got one foot in the grave I'll dig my boots into the dirt And face the rolling thunder

I'm five generations of blazing a trail Through barbed wire valleys and overgrown dells I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails Whoa, whoa, whoa

I'm four-fifths of reckless and one-fifth of jack I push like a daisy through old sidewalk cracks Yeah, my kinda crazy's still running its courses with Wildflowers and wild horses

It's in the water in my veins That bread of heaven falls like rain So I'm taken care of either way Make something out of how I'm made Until I hitch a ride on glory's train

I'm barefoot and bareback and born tough as nails - Early Life

To put it simply Marjorie was never born to be a lady. She loved the skirts and pretty dresses that adorned her but her love for the effeminate stopped there. From the moment she could notice the young princess resented the difference with which she and her brothers were treated. Marjorie wanted to learn the dance of swords and how to show a bow. To get muddied exploring the crags and moors. Instead she was held inside. Lessons on needlepoint and how to act like a proper lady. At aged eight she had enough and began sneaking out to the training yards in the dead of night. Wiggling from the warmth of her featherbed she trudged stolen garments in hand to have a go at the training dummies. Her first attempts were hilariously disastrous. It was only after her brother Caelen followed her one night that she began to improve. With his tutelage she began to become adept at both sword and bow. She took hits from him that would leave bruises and welts. When asked about the injuries she would simply claim she fell. Her governess was even fired under suspect of abuse. Once good enough, she would often swap places with her brother William. Disguised as him underneath training armor she would get lessons from the masters at arms themselves. It invigorated and enthralled her. On a good day she earned her little brother praise on his improvements. On a bad her father would be called down to give them both a lashing.

When her eighteenth name day came, she was offered a horse of her choosing as was custom. Rather than choose the dainty Arabian, a true lady's horse, that was presented to her, Marjorie picked out Fargus. A draughty war horse colt. He had been reserved to be a well-respected guard's personal mount, but the princesses insistent meant that Fargus became hers.

When I got one foot in the grave - The Plague Years

Marjorie like many others suffered during the height of the plague. Storms and rains flooded half of the country while the other seemed to war within themselves. Many resented the royal family's privelege and believed that their inner turmoil was to blame for the severe losses suffered by the less fortunate. The princess for her part did what she could. Days would be spent atop Fargus, out hunting for game that might feed the common folk nearest the castle. She could not help the entirety of the country but she was determined to help those within her reach. Often times her return with game was the difference between hunger and starvation. It was during this time that the King met his mistress. Marjorie was fond of her from the moment they met. The mistress was everything that the queen could never hope to be. And when the announcement came of an heir, she celebrated with the kingdom.

Until I hitch a ride on glory's train - Present Day

Marjorie strives to become in a position of power. She wants to be queen. But not just any queen; the queen of most importance. Someone the other queen's will look upon with forced respect

Per what is expected Marjorie has hidden the longsword typically trapped to her hip after the family arrived at the summit. At twenty-eight she was practically an old-maid and in order to secure a betrothal she needed to look the proper lady. Unfortunately her betrothal was decided without her input. It is one she currently resents as she looks to position herself with a better match.

The princess still trains, though now that she is of age and able to command those below her, she has her own personal master at arms. They are her guard and her teacher for though adept at both sword and bow, Marjorie knows that to slip in skill is to die.

She spends her days exploring the land atop Fargus, stopping to engage with the locals and those she deems fit. Spending so much time so far from home has grown weary and she wishes to explore.

Misc. Facts

Many of her dresses are designed with metal work around torso and breasts, protection from a blade

Like many men, Marjorie has frequent affairs. While she doesn't share them with the other kingdoms her family is well aware of her trysts.

She seeks to have a hand in the current politics and uses conversations and the like to better her position and is slowly trying to build up the amount of those loyal to her.

Marjorie carries a dagger strapped to her thigh and is having another made that will fit her hip, the blade made to hide within the folds of her gowns and the hilt designed to appear as jewelry.

Frequently wanders off to wherever she pleases. Wears a bow across her back and long-sword at her hip when outside of the summit. Often goes looking for bandits or trouble to keep herself entertained.

[draftmare]

Percheron draft gelding.

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marjorie's mount, fargus.